Peter
by KyokoDreamer
Summary: (AU) A successful psychiatrist married to the love of his life, Arthur Kirkland has it all - that is, until he meets Peter, a boy unlike any other, whose only dream is to be recognised and to gain one true friend. Through opening up to one another, both experience the ups and downs of life and discover that what you want and what you need are often two very different things. USUK
1. Prologue - And Then Came Peter

**Hey everybody! It's been a while since I've updated because I have tons of multi-chapter stories coming up and my life has been nothing but 'planning planning planning' and 'write write write', and I won't lie to you guys - despite my complaining, I've loved every minute of it! However, because these are such big ideas, it really takes me a while to find exactly the words I want, so it takes longer to update, and I'm branching out into some different genres which is a big step too for me! Look out for some more supernatural themed stories from me later! ;P Anyway, 'Peter' is an idea I've had for a while and I'm ready to really commit to it so I promise to update as quickly as I possibly can - if you guys like it that is! This first chapter is a sort of 'tidbit' to intruige you, and for those who are interested, the next chapter will be up soon and some answers will be given! ^^ As always, please read and review if you have the time! ^^ **

**Charli xxx**

* * *

Arthur Kirkland had always struggled to say 'no' to Alfred Jones. If he didn't, maybe his life would be different. He doubted he'd like it. Part of his curse had meant that somehow as a teenager he'd been persuaded to go on, and he quoted, "Just one date?" that soon turned into many more, despite its claim. Perhaps if he could say 'no' to Alfred once in a while, they wouldn't have ended up living together, or engaged, or married. Well, given the others, maybe that last one would be inevitable, but he could have at least had a say in whether Charlie Sheen attended. That man ruined many prized wedding shots that day. And Arthur still never found out how Alfred actually knew him.

But if he were able to ever say 'no' to his husband, Arthur Kirkland would never have met Peter, and he often believed that his life truly would have been better if he hadn't. But that was because he was bitter for the trouble caused, as deep down inside, Peter was among the most important people he'd ever met in his life. And if he hadn't have ever met him, he wouldn't have learnt many valuable lessons in his life, and Peter wouldn't have either. In truth, both of them needed one another - but neither of them would admit it, each as stubborn as the other.

With Alfred Jones, Arthur led a good life. In fact, he lived an amazing life. He was more thankful for it than he could ever put into words. He didn't really suppose that he believed in God or a higher power or anything of the sort, yet still every night as he fell asleep, he found himself thanking one, over and over in his brain. As he settled down into the sheets, feeling the warmth of Alfred's embrace surround him, and closing his eyes peacefully, he thanked the world for letting him crawl out of what started out as a terrible existence, and end up enjoying one so amazing.

Since what the pair referred to as his "escape", Arthur had graduated university with a doctorate and honours, and become a successful psychiatrist, offering therapy at an office with his own name above the door. He was never short of clients or praise, helping many people through their struggles, and maintaining a good relationship with every one of them. His marriage with Alfred was a happy one, with no arguments, exempting their occasional spelling battles or domestic disputes, in which both struggled to contain their laughter ("For once in your life Alfred, could you actually pick up the rubbish you pass on the floor?!" "Maybe the day your scones aren't burnt to a crisp?" "Oh shut up, you stupid git!"). Alfred was a PE teacher, working in a local secondary school, where he was adored by students and teachers alike. Both had a good work ethic, made good money, and lived comfortably in a flat in London. Some money would be put aside each year for two flights out to Washington, to stay with Alfred's parents, because while the man insisted he didn't miss them, Arthur felt like it would be wrong not to go, especially as they had accepted himself so readily into their family all those years ago.

Yes, Arthur had it made, and he knew it. His life was perfect. And then came Peter.

This phrase would often be used in the Jones-Kirkland household even many years after, to represent the coming of a storm in one's life, of something bad happening that no one can prevent. And that is the perfect way to start this story, for in this instance it had literal meaning.

And then came Peter… So our story begins.


	2. Chapter 1 - Alfred Jones

**As promised, a very quick update! I got a great response back for the time space of just one day so thank you everybody, especially Captain Awesomesauce and CherryPie1399 for the kind reviews! This story looks like it will be able to continue steadily if you guys continue to enjoy it so thank you, this idea is one of those I kinda like! ^^ So, I hope you enjoy this chapter, please read and review if you have the time! **

**Charli xxx**

* * *

Everybody liked Alfred Jones, and it had always been that way. Perhaps it was because he was American - his accent was a refreshing change amongst the din of Cockney voices vying for dominance, and inserting whatever "colourful" vocabulary they could think of. But mostly it was just him, him and his demeanour. He exuded confidence, but not in a threatening way, and he was loud, but once you focused solely on what he was saying, the obnoxiousness of it all went away. And he had a hero complex, and in a public school, that meant girls adored you.

"Mr Jones!" a panicked voice called out to him from the cluster of teenagers that surrounded him. He passed the clipboard to one of them, asking him if he wouldn't mind finishing the register for him in exchange for five minutes more changing time without reprimand.

"Something wrong?" he addressed the girl who'd spoken.

"Yes sir, I've forgotten my kit." She looked very obviously distraught and he gave her a reassuring smile.

"That's okay Katie, we're only doing badminton today so you'll be fine, alright?" He gave her a thumbs up, "You'll still do it in your normal uniform for me, yeah?"

She nodded, but something still bothered her, "Sir, d-does this mean I'll still get the d-detention?"

From what he knew of Katie, she was the kind of girl who'd never had a detention in her life. He thought back over the lessons; she'd never forgotten her kit before so he supposed today she must have good reason… He smiled again, "No of course not. Now run along and put your bags in the changing room. Let the other girls know we're in the main hall."

"Yes sir!" she beamed relieved, swinging open the changing room door, much to the chagrin of the girls who changed very close, who blushed and hobbled out of sight, in case their teacher had been standing near enough to see.

And this was how many of these situations would go. Alfred just found himself unable to upset students - he never gave a single detention. But his was an unusual case - Arthur had seen him working many a time and was certain that his relaxed ways and kindness would lead to the children taking advantage of him, but they never did. If anything, his methods led to their respect, and they had no desire to get him in trouble for not upholding the rules. Students would receive their new timetables every year and pray that this year they would have Mr Jones, because those who didn't got either Mr Bielschmidt or Miss Hedervary.

Mr Bielschmidt was scary, that was something all students agreed on. He was a tall, heavily muscular man, with cold blue eyes and hair combed back so fiercely it stuck to his head. If you pleased him, he was nice, but if you didn't… Well, everybody in the school could hear him shouting. Miss Hedervary was a nice enough woman out of the gymnasium, but when it came to sports and training, she was heavily competitive and would not let you off. A real feminist, but she would not take the 'it's-that-time-of-the-month-excuse', believing instead that the point of feminism was to match up the men - so what if you were bleeding from your uterus, there was squash to be played, wasn't there? She was sweet enough so that the students still liked her, but she definitely had an edge that was difficult to ignore. Boys especially liked her though, if only for the fact that she wore little more than a sports bra as she taught her classes.

But Alfred was the most popular, with both genders and all age groups under his thumb. All the students liked him - he was funny, he was charismatic, and most of all he listened to them. He was always there to offer a more childlike view at staff meetings, even though it annoyed the other teachers, and if you needed to talk to somebody, you would more often than not, want it to be him.

It was not uncommon for parents to come in to talk to him too, worried about their child's grades or progress or simply just their mannerisms. Alfred got used to returning to his office after a lesson to find a concerned parent or worried kid, expecting him to console them before they went on their way. It never bothered him however, nor did he ever complain. And that in itself could have been the last reason that people loved him. People loved Alfred Jones, because he really loved people. It was not uncommon for parents to come in to talk to him, but he never expected to see the woman that he saw in his office that day, he never expected to see her.

It was a pretty crisp November day, that one. Katie had forgotten her kit, and in a way some of the girls envied her - it meant she was allowed to keep her jumper on, something they all longed to do as they shivered in the big old sports hall in fourth period. They were in Year 10, their fourth year of secondary school, and PE lessons were now segregated by gender for them, as per the government law. They were glad the boys weren't there to see them then, huddled together on the benches, trying desperately to conserve warmth.

Mr Jones came jogging in through the double doors next to them, having returned from the gym teachers' office with a whistle and stopwatch. He rarely used them but always felt that he looked complete with them, regardless of whether they actually had any purpose. "Damn, it's cold isn't it?" he posed, and was met with nods of agreement from the girls. "Man, I don't envy Miss Hedervary's lot out there on the football field…!"

They all giggled, thinking of the frozen boys out there in their tiny shorts and t-shirts. Well, some of them would be lucky enough to have jogging bottoms, but they guessed that there would be many a pair of goose-pimpled legs running around on that field.

"Well, we're indoors today fortunately, and it's badminton which I know you guys are good at, so get to it, have fun!"

They all shuffled off of the benches in their respective groups, taking a racket from the bag discarded next to them, and finding a shuttlecock anywhere they could. An interesting item of equipment the 'shuttlecock', Alfred noted. No matter where they started out, they would always end up elsewhere, and you could always find them scattered around the hall or in the PE storeroom, but never had he found one in the barrel labelled "Shuttlecocks". Perhaps if they labelled them "Birdies", he'd replace them himself, because he'd actually remember what that title referred to. He smiled to himself - it was a source of constant irritation to Arthur that unlike other Americans that came to England, Alfred had never adapted, sticking loyally to his Americanisms, even after all these years.

The girls got on with the lesson quickly as they were asked, and soon the room was alive with the swishing noises of the rackets gliding through the air and the dull "thunk" of wire mesh and shuttlecock colliding. He watched the girls play reservedly, occasionally interjecting feedback or praise, and helping those who needed it. This was one of his better classes; the girls did as they were told first time and were for the most part well behaved.

The double doors opened once more and a small timid girl, who to the impartial observer didn't look much older than the students themselves, but was in actual fact a trainee teacher, tiptoed in. "M-Mr Jones~!" she called, trotting over meekly.

"Lili, how many times, call me Alfred." he grinned. "What's up?"

She tucked a strand of her mousy hair back, unsettling her ribbon which she repositioned nervously. "There's a woman here to see you, sir. I wouldn't normally like to interrupt but she looks as if it might be urgent or something… So, I mean, would it possible for you to-"

"Sure, don't sweat it! Hey Lil, could you keep an eye on my girls for me?" Without waiting for a reply he went off, back through the double doors and towards his office. Coming to the right room, he opened the door, entered and shut it behind him.

There was a scraping sound as the woman who had been seated, pulled back her chair and stood up respectfully.

"Howdy." he said, confused at her actions, it was unusual for parents to be so formal with him. Clearly this was something that was really worrying her. It was then that he noticed the child next to her, a young boy, clearly not much more than a toddler.

"Aw, how you doing little guy?"

"He doesn't speak much yet," she grinned, "But I'm trying to teach him as best as I can. I was quite hoping that he'd get adopted sooner because I learnt that I am really not the best teacher." She laughed a little, picking up the boy and scooping him onto her lap. His pudgy fist reached up, grabbing some of her short ginger-blonde hair.

"Adopted?"

"Oh!" she gasped shortly, "He's not my son! I wouldn't just give my child up for adoption! No, my name is Laura, Laura Mogens, and I'm a carer at the New Beginnings children's home."

"Oh, I see." Now that he looked closer at her, it was clear that she wasn't a mother. He wasn't sure what it was, but there was something about her that just told him that she wasn't.

She reminded him a little of a parallel universe Lili, in that she wasn't very tall, and had a similar hair cut, albeit with a slightly more golden tone to it. She had large green eyes and her face was kind, as though she had been hurt and wanted to prevent this happening to other people. She seemed like the kind of girl who was usually very happy-go-lucky, but today had something very pressing on her mind. He warmed to her instantly.

"So Miss Mogens, how can I help you?"

"Um, well… I was wondering if we could talk about Peter."

* * *

**And I'm leaving you all with a cliffhanger again because I am unspeakably mean! Don't worry though, I'll be back soon with an update! ^^**


	3. Chapter 2 - An Agreement

**Hello again! Another chapter here, and I like to think I've been pretty prompt? Well, I'll let you be the judge of that! Not much to say here today, so I guess only that I hope you enjoy it! Please read and review if you have the time! ^^ **

**Charli xxx**

* * *

The human mind is an unusual thing, and that is something that Arthur Kirkland never took for granted, well, I suppose that in his profession this was necessary to succeed. Every day he spoke to a whole host of people, each with their own unique and varied problems and outlooks. All these different thoughts, feelings, actions and emotions, born from what were essentially the same brains. That was something astounding to him, and perhaps what was even more astounding was how everyone's brains comprehended that thought, and then comprehended the thought of comprehension, and so on and so forth, and when he communicated all of these thoughts to his husband he was usually met with a sheepish "You lost me…" or an Internet-style 'mind-blown' signal and interjection of "Paradox!" which he had to admit, he actually found quite cute. When he spent entire days listening to people and pretending to understand, it was nice to come home and have someone listen to him who was completely open about being utterly clueless.

Arthur smiled to himself, moving objects on his desk from one side to the other for a purpose that was unknown even to him. He could see his secretary giving him strange looks from the hall. "Kiku? You can just come in, you know?"

The small man bowed his head respectfully, stepping forward into the room. "Jones-san is here to see you."

"Oh." Arthur tried to contain his grin but wasn't sure it worked so turned around. It was important to remain professional with your employees. "P-Please send him up."

He heard Kiku go back down the stairs and for a moment pitied him. Many of the smaller offices in London were like this - the top floor for one business and the bottom for another, with a small porch area to the side of the lower for the clientele of the top. They had been fairly lucky with the building they had in that their makeshift 'lobby' was actually bigger that most people down this stretch of road as the landlord had had some work done on the building a few years before they'd begun renting the space. There was enough room for a few chairs and a coffee table as well as the front desk for the receptionists like Kiku, before the stairs to the top floor began. Of course, there was the slight bother as he was starting out, that he was trying to establish a highly respectable and reliable psychiatry office… Above a place dubbed 'Toni's Pizza Parlour'.

"Hey."

He recognised the voice instantly and allowed a smile to play around his lips. "Hello." He felt two arms snake around his waist and shut his eyes peacefully.

Had any of the people downstairs witnessed this display they'd have most likely thought that it was another person, for Arthur Kirkland did not behave in such a way, 'melting' at physical contact. But that was because he was their boss, and so they saw one side of him, and Alfred had always said this about him no matter how many times he was hit: "When Art is happy, he's very very happy. But when he's grumpy, he's terrifying."

"What are you doing here anyway?" he asked.

"I thought I'd come pick you up. I have something to tell you."

"What is it?"

"I've kind of agreed to something on your behalf…"

He tensed up. Alfred making deals or negations was never a good idea, and on behalf on himself even more so. What had he done, and worse, what would Arthur be expected to do?! But there was still hope, he consoled himself.

"Alfred…"

"Mm."

"You're joking aren't you?"

There was a pause.

"Alfred?"

"… No?"

"Alfred!" he snapped, turning around. "What exactly have you agreed to?!"

"Well… It's just something that happened at the school today…"

* * *

"_Peter?" Alfred thought that over for a moment, "Peter… Smith?"_

_She nodded, "Yes. I-I'm really worried about him… And I wouldn't normally bother the school like this but you're his tutor, and I've heard such wonderful things, so… I just… I wondered if you'd help." She blushed nervously, holding tighter onto the wriggling infant in her arms._

_He smiled kindly at her, "So, what exactly worries you about Peter?"_

"_Well-"_

* * *

"As interesting as this undoubtedly is, what's really a concern to me is what you've done. Honestly, can I not let you go anywhere alone?"

"I'm getting there!" he laughed nervously, assuming that they were still on grounds to be able to joke around and this hadn't escalated yet, "Anyway, she said…"

* * *

"_He doesn't really have any… friends. Not even at the home. He's such a bright, an- and friendly boy, he's full of energy, you know? He tries so hard to talk with people, with everyone, but… I don't know. They just find it hard to relate to him, they say he has strange ideas and opinions. And I… I can see how much it hurts him. He comes home from school acting like he doesn't have a care in the world, then he goes upstairs to his room and… Well, when he was a little younger, I heard him cry."_

_Alfred thought back on all the times he'd seen the boy in the halls. He was an excitable thing, constantly jumping into conversations, then leaving them with little more than a brushing-off. He couldn't think that he'd ever seen the boy talking to any friends in their tutor sessions. He flitted between groups but never stayed. It was only then that Alfred realised that he'd probably been rejected. He wished that there was some way that he could help him._

_Laura continued, a nervous smile flickering on her face. "I don't know what I expect you to do about it, but I felt like you ought to know, just in case there's anything you can think of…I-I want him to open up more, I want to know what he thinks about, what's wrong with him. Because if I couldn't at least do that then there's no point in my being there at all. But he never wants to talk like that. I-I don't know what to do…"_

_He could see the tears shining in her eyes but she remained composed. And then he had an idea…_

* * *

"You didn't."

"I'm sorry."

"Alfred!" By now Arthur had completely broken free of his embrace and began to hit him with a mostly-full ring binder discarded on the desk.

"Ow! Why are we hitting me?!"

"Why did you do that?!"

"Hey, I said I was sorry! I just- I want to help them!"

"But that's not you helping them! That is me helping them whilst you indulge your hero complex, you idiot!"

He shut the door, hoping not to terrify the people downstairs, least of all those in 'Toni's' with their dispute. Thinking of these people seemed to calm him down a bit and he replaced the folder on the desk, a sign of surrender and forgiveness, Alfred knew. It also meant he was unlikely to get hit again which he welcomed.

The American sat down on a chair to one side of the big desk, like one of his students about to get scolded by the principal. "I really am sorry Artie."

"Shut up, no you're not." he snapped, before sighing. "Alright, tell me what I am expected to do."

"It's just one counselling session a week, after he finishes school." Alfred tried to reassure him, aiming to persuade him to come around to the deal. "Travel is all taken care of, he's going to get the bus here and he'll go home by himself too. You don't have to worry about a thing. It's just one session a week."

Arthur remained unconvinced. "For how long?"

"Ah… That I don't know."

He groaned gutturally before proceeding with: "And for how much?"

"… Nothing?"

Which was meant with another dissatisfied noise and a roll of the eyes. Reluctantly, Arthur took his diary off of the desk and scheduled in an appointment at four o clock on a Wednesday before showing it to the teacher.

Alfred stood up and kissed him on the cheek, "I love you."

"Hmph."

* * *

**And that's all for this update! We'll be learning some more about Peter soon which is going to be fun for me to write! ^^ Sorry about the slight lengthiness between updates this time but I have History work still to do that I'm still not pleased with - it's amazing how I sit down and write Fanfiction with usually little trouble, but get two paragraphs into a History essay and have to stop before I kill Megs (my best friend who sits with me in History and can actually write essays, damn it! ;P). Well, see you next time guys!**


	4. Chapter 3 - Mornings

**Hiya guys! Firstly, I cannot believe how much support this story is getting and I am eternally grateful! While the review total may not look like much to some people, you guys have helped me to exceed the biggest amount of reviews I've ever gotten (eight) and that is just so great, I really cannot thank you enough! Secondly, to clear up an issue: I have lead you on somewhat, in that you are not given the identity of the toddler Laura is holding and for a while you believe it to be Peter, which was done on purpose but my sister says that I should make it clear that it wasn't him so I'm following orders! XP I hope you guys enjoy this chapter, and please read and review if you have the time! I feel like this is my little phrase... I hope it doesn't annoy you guys! ^^" **

**Charli xxx**

* * *

There were a total of six other children at the New Beginnings home, not including the baby that is, and it was a constant source of anguish to Peter that they were all taller than him. He supposed that he would have a growth spurt soon, but until then it meant that he was powerless against the other residents, and this in turn of course meant that he had longest to wait for the bathroom. But he didn't complain anymore, he just waited his turn patiently, because that was Peter. He would wait, and keep waiting, until the day he was taller and somebody else could take over.

First into the communal bathroom every day would be Mia because she was their only girl. The boys would always keep their distance between the hours of six and quarter past, ducking behind their doors until they were certain she had passed. It wasn't so much that they were gentlemen or anything, more that if they were to see her clad in just her towel, they'd most likely lose a limb or two or… Another appendage of value.

Peter liked Mia, he liked her a lot. She was as pretty as she was violent, and she was very violent. Her beauty however often went unnoticed because of this, as it was very demure and understated, he thought. She had thick brown hair that she pulled back in a ponytail to one side. She often slipped a pencil over her ear that she would soon forget about and only find again as she pulled the hair band out and it tumbled onto her dressing table. She had nice brown eyes too and eyebrows that could rival his own, but hers were more tame than his, and she wouldn't reveal her secret. Perhaps that was why she took so long in the bathroom - some kind of long laborious process to keep them in check.

After her went Kyle, he was the tallest so it was practically a God-given right. Kyle was fun and didn't pick on him, but at the same time he didn't really associate with him much, none of them did. If Peter had to label exactly what the other residents of the children's home were to him, it would be 'acquaintances', and that was sad to him. He constantly tried to reach out to them but he supposed that they were all just too different.

Next in was Noah, but he wasn't the next tallest. That was confusing to Peter, but he guessed it was because of his relationship with Kyle. It was never really openly discussed what the two boys were to one another, but everyone could tell that they were definitely a something. Kyle was very protective over Noah, and the older kids said that he wore that band-aid* over his nose to hide a scar he got in a fight over him. Noah was quiet and Peter didn't know much else about him than that.

Then came Leo, who was also amongst the oldest. He smiled a lot and Peter had never seen him outside of home when he wasn't surrounded by girls. Leo had auburn hair with a curl that sprung out fiercely, even when he had brushed it straight. He was very cool and had a big group of friends which Peter envied and admired. He was never without plans on Saturday night which made up in a way for the fact that Mia and himself never used their allotted weekend free time.

When Leo emerged freshly bathed, it was Adam's turn to go in. He was younger than the first three but Peter thought he looked older. He had dark hair and dark eyes with even darker rims around them. He looked like he'd never slept a day in his life and his attire was as black as his mood - lots of leather with the occasional interjection of red, a reflection on his temper.

Fabian would come out of his room once the stronger boys had left. Peter thought that Fabian had a girly name but it most definitely suited him. He had fine silvery hair that he braided into two long plaits. He kept his hair in a better condition even than Mia did, conditioning it at every possibility and using a serum to keep it as smooth and silky as possible. He kept to himself but when he did add to conversation, what he had to say didn't really interest Peter.

And then it was the turn of Oscar, who Peter wouldn't hesitate to say he disliked. They were closest in age than any of the others but they were probably the most different to one another. Peter found Oscar mean and snooty and never bothered to spend more time with him to form a new opinion.

Finally, it was Peter's turn. He didn't take very long to shower and once he was done he was also a quick dresser, so he finished quickly and even though he was last in, he was always first out and sitting at the breakfast table expectantly. As everyone walked in one by one, Peter would greet them and be met with the appropriate response: "G-day little mate.", "Um, hello…" or "Shut up Peter." Laura would ruffle his hair cheerfully and ask him what he wanted to eat that morning. No request was ever too much, and she went out of her way to please each of them, and she would always ask Peter if he was alright before he left, which he appreciated, but it wasn't the morning that was the problem. No, it was when he came home that he was upset.

Tim Mogens was Laura's older brother, another carer at the home, and he was mostly silent, cooking the things Laura told him to while she tended to the baby. The baby was actually about two years old but they still all called him the baby, purely because he was the very youngest of them all.

Once everyone had finished eating, there was a desperate scramble to get upstairs and get themselves together. They would all try and keep out of one another's way because not very many of them were exactly what you would call morning people and it was better not to step on any toes when all hell was guaranteed to break loose. Peter would gather his bag together and be sure to put in all the homework he hadn't done, then stand and wait at the front entrance for Mia to appear at the top of the stairs. He always tried to make it look like he hadn't been waiting, like they just coincidentally finished together, but he was certain she knew the truth. He smiled brightly at her and proposed that they walk together, to which she would always reply "Too loud." before following him out of the door.

Mia was a late-comer to the home, which was unusual. The others had been there for most of their lives but she was only into her second year. Because of this she was already enrolled in a secondary school upon arrival, and Laura didn't think it right to transfer her after she'd settled in. It was a girls' only school that specialised in Art and Design, which meant that Mia fit right in and spent most of her time in the Art room, even after school hours. The others all went to a mixed public school - it was nothing special, chosen only for the fact that it was local and the results weren't too bad.

Their walk together was a normal one, filled with small talk and companionable silence that made neither party feel awkward. He was certain it meant nothing to her but Peter always looked forward to it. He didn't know how she saw him, but these walks made him feel like he had a friend, like he wasn't completely alone all the time. For ten to fifteen minutes, he has a best friend. Even if the other party didn't realise that.

"You alright?" she would drawl at him, still not entirely awake.

"I'm good thank you! Today will be fun, huh?" he'd beam.

"… Sure."

Then came the silence.

"So, do you have Art class today, Mia?" He always reverted to this topic because he knew it would get her talking.

"Yeah actually. We're doing this big Pop Art piece, like inspired by the greats, you know? Liechtenstein, Warhol, all these vibrant colours and film icons. It should be really cool. We're thinking…"

And this would go on for a little while, and Peter would accompany it with smiles and nods, enjoying just listening to her talk. But these moments had to end, and when the gates of his school came into view, he felt a little gloomy. She in turn would notice and wave him off.

"See ya."

He would smile then, and yell "Have a good day Mia!"

"Yeah…" she would respond and he would watch her walk further and further away until he couldn't see her anymore. Then and only then would he go in.

Yes, for Peter mornings were chaotic, but he loved them. He was happy and enjoying himself. But mornings had to end, and afternoons, they were the worst…

* * *

**To be continued next chapter, muahahahaha! I'm not sure you guys will really feel sorry for Peter yet but I kinda do. I guess when you know the rest of the story you have a different outlook but I think that just this is a little sad, no? :'/ I'm wondering if you guys got who all of the kids in the home were, and I'd be interested to see your guesses! I have a huge speaking competition tomorrow so there likely won't be another update for the next few days but there'll be a new chapter up Saturday at the latest! Until then, much love to all of you and I hope you have a good week! ^^**


	5. Chapter 4 - Emil Steillson

**Hey again everybody! I have a huge thank you this week, because just yesterday, 'Peter' hit fifteen reviews and, as my friend predicted, I cried. I cried actual tears for at least five minutes. I really couldn't have done this without you guys and I'm so grateful for all your support - I hope you're enjoying Peter and I have the promise that it will continue for a while; I already have plans for twenty chapters! Thank you so so so much, I love each and every one of you.**

**As for who each of last chapter's characters were, I am here to reveal the truth! Actually, if you combined all of you guys' answers, you'd have a perfect set! You were all really awesome and I hope I communicated them across well! Someone recommended that I say who each of the characters in this are as a literal part of the story but I don't think I'll be doing that - purely because this is a real world AU so it would be weird to suddenly say "Oh by the way, Alfred is also the personification of the nation of America!" XP So, here they are!**

**Peter - Sealand (obvs)**

**Mia - Wy**

**Kyle - Australia**

**Noah - New Zealand**

**Adam - Molossia**

**Leo - Seborga**

**Fabian - Kugelmugel**

**Oscar - Ladonia**

**Laura Mogens - Belgium**

**Tim Mogens - Netherlands**

**So there you go! Did you get any right? ^^ Until next time guys! Please read and review if you have the time! **

**Charli**** xxx**

* * *

Alfred pulled his "official-gym-teacher" whistle, that he considered mandatory for all in his profession, from the top drawer of his desk and strolled out of the P.E. office, shutting the door behind him. He swung open the glass door that led to the back courtyard and gave a low gasp at the chill in the air. He spotted Miss Hedervary standing with her arms folded by the wire fence overlooking the playing fields.

"'Sup, Liz? Watcha lookin' at?"

She turned to face him sharply, "Do you see him, Alfred?"

He looked in the direction of her gaze. A group of boys shivered on the grass pitch, having changed in record-breaking speeds, and stood in perfect alignment, like a troop of child soldiers in the ranks. Mr Bielschmidt paced in front of them, saying something that they couldn't make out for the distance, before shouting loud enough so they could hear: "Count off!"

From the tall muscular boy at the front, all the way down to the scrawniest at the end, each called a number as soon as they were expected to, without even a pause for breath.

"Disband!" Their teacher yelled just as loudly as before.

They formed a perfect chain and began to run the perimeter of the area, leaving equal gaps between each boy, never bunching into groups or stopping out of exhaustion. If Alfred hadn't known some of them from his Sport Theory lessons, he really would have believed that they were some kind of juvenile army.

"The man is a lunatic!" Miss Hedervary stated emphatically, "He shouldn't be entrusted with children, he's a slave driver! I mean, it's absolutely ridiculous, right?!"

"I know what you mean…" he replied, "They kinda creep me out, all perfect like that…"

She nodded furiously, "It's more like military training than a mandatory P.E. lesson! He's far too harsh! The man is-"

Their conversation was interrupted by a voice from behind them. "Um, excuse me, Miss Hedervary?"

"Mm." she acknowledged the small girl with a small smile.

She handed over a crumpled paper note, gesturing towards her left foot, "I've sprained my ankle and I'm not sure how much I'll be able to do in P.E. today."

"Oh don't worry about that, Lucy~"

The student relaxed visibly, folding the note back into her pocket.

Miss Hedervary continued, "We're only doing laps today, so you can hop them."

Lucy's mouth dropped open in amazement, then snapped shut again, and she sighed resignedly. "Yes Miss…" she agreed, before limping forlornly to the changing rooms. Alfred felt bad for the poor kid.

"You were saying?" he grinned jokingly at the slight hypocrisy on her part.

She didn't pick up on that.

"Oh yeah~! An absolute barbarian!"

"Uh-huh."

* * *

Peter sat in his Maths class, idly dropping his pencil onto the table, before picking it up again, only to repeat the process. This was a perfect example of how dull he found his Maths lessons. None of the words sunk in at all, and none of the methods made any sense, but he admitted, it might help if he listened once in a while.

He sat on his "island" - a desk in the far corner where he sat alone, "marooned" from the rest of the class. He stared at the clock on the front wall, boredom succeeding in wrapping its constricting tentacles around him no matter how much he tried to escape. Just fifteen minutes left.

Ten minutes left.

Five minutes left.

It always seemed to Peter that the last five minutes of a Maths lesson were the longest. They were the ones where nobody was really paying attention because everybody wanted to leave, but this in turn seemed to be the exact moment the teacher would decide to explain something as grand as Einstein's theorem or whatever else he should think up. Every second felt like an hour and all eyes were wide as they watched the hand of the clock perform each tiny rotation. And finally, class would end.

As they all left the class, piling up at the door, Peter found himself jostled and shoved quite a few times, to the point where he decided to hang back a little as everyone left. He was the last person in the room - even the teacher had scarpered.

It was then that he caught sight of someone that he knew, and remembered that they had Maths in here next. He did not know this because he had memorised their whole timetable or anything, just… Well, just some of it.

Emil Steilsson was nearly four years older than him and he was very popular, despite not having much to say. Peter assumed it was because he was very attractive, and from his own experience, girls tended not to like boys who talked very much anyway. He was tall and brooding, and good at sports, and his grade average wasn't bad either. Short in short, he was the perfect guy to most of the girls, and some of the boys, at Fleetwood Secondary School.

Peter practically bounced down the hall in excitement, ignoring all of the passing kids that shoved him a little as he got in their way.

"Yo Icy!" he called.

Emil looked up blankly. He gave a small nod, "Hi Peter." before turning back towards his destination.

"How's it going?" Peter continued unabashed.

"It's going okay Peter." he replied monotonously.

"Guess where I'm going tonight?"

The older boy just looked at him by way of response, stopping outside the door of a rowdy Year 11 Maths class, currently busying themselves throwing paper torpedoes and doodling into textbooks.

"I'm going to see a therapist."

There was a pause. "Well, good luck with that."

Peter was used to the other boy's silence but had quite thought that he might have a little more to say than that. "It's Mr Jones' boyfriend."

"That's nice."

More silence. Emil seemed to be getting impatient, looking in at the class, still without a teacher. Peter glanced at the empty Maths' office opposite them and wondered where the professor was and whether his class were used to his absence.

He couldn't see a way of continuing the conversation and realised that he ought to get to his class too, he smiled by way of a parting goodbye, and turned around back down the corridor.

"Peter?"

Emil called after him and he turned around. "Yes?" he responded brightly.

"Do you have enough for the bus fare there?" He reached into his pocket, pulling out a few coins.

Peter beamed back at him, "I'm fine, thank you!"

He nodded, and walked into class, seeing the small boy making his way back down the hall. He loped towards his desk at the back of the room and took his seat. The boy in front of him turned around, a small but mocking smirk lacing his features. "Hey Em; who's the weird kid?

"Peter's alright." He defended him loosely, taking a book out of his bag.

"Yeah? How'dya know him?"

Emil ignored him, lost in thought, and he turned back around, shaking his head in disbelief at how distracted his friend was.

The truth was, Emil and Peter had met rather unconventionally, and he wasn't entirely sure of their relationship. He wouldn't call it friendship as such, but it seemed that a one-time meeting was all that that boy really needed to permit himself to constantly strike up conversation. They'd met in detention, the only one Emil had ever attended, though apparently Peter had attended more than one…

* * *

_Emil sat at the back of the room, surveying the people before him silently. They were an odd group of people but they kept to themselves which was good - before he knew it, the hour would be up and he could go home. He doodled a mouse in his exercise book, and then another, and another, until they were running the length of the page._

_He was snapped out of his thoughts by a loud "Hello!"_

_When he looked up, he saw that the boy who had been sitting at least three rows in front of him was now pressed up to his face._

"_Uhm… Hi, I guess." he said, distancing the two of them by pushing back his chair, which prompted the boy to at least shuffle his own chair back a little._

"_I'm Peter, and you're Emil right?!" he beamed._

"_Yeah."_

"_Good to meet you!"_

"… _Thanks." He was still a little blindsided but remembered his manners, "You too."_

"_Right!" The boy stood up, Peter was his name he recalled, as though he were about to state something very official. "So you're in detention now, but I've been going to detention way longer than you so I have way more experience…!"_

_Emil heard a murmur of "Shut up, Peter…"and "Pratt…", and decided that, annoying as the boy was, he could be afforded some listening time. "Okay?" he replied._

"_So I can sit here with you, and tell you about it!"_

_He groaned inwardly but just nodded by way of response._

"_I'm glad you're so friendly," the boy gibbered on, "I tried to make friends with those two last week and they're quite rude!"_

_The two boys in the front row laughed and one turned around, putting up his middle finger before continuing to carve his initials into the wood of the desk with a knife that the teacher at the front was ignoring. Actually, that teacher was ignoring everything, and once again, Emil worried about the reliability of the staff at their establishment._

_Well, just forty-five minutes left, he consoled himself as Peter continued to talk… And talk… And talk… And talk._

* * *

Peter wandered down the halls quickly, knowing that there was a large possibility that he would be late to his second period Spanish class. He passed a teacher with wide unblinking eyes and a badly shaven jaw, who clutched a cup of coffee with perhaps the unhappiest expression that anyone had ever seen.

Peter smiled, "Are you alright sir?"

"No." the man whimpered, "I have a Year 11 Maths class…"

"Oh…" Peter knew what this meant, and wished the poor guy the very best of luck.


	6. Chapter 5 - The Janitorial Staff

**Hello again! I'm so sorry that it's been this long! I've been a little busy renovating and whatever as well as just plain battling for the computer to be able to write! It seems that whenever I do get the chance to write Peter anyway, I end up working on chapters that will be coming ages away! Oh I'm so weird... ^^" But yeah, I hope you guys are liking this story, because it's going to go on for so long, and I promise more drama, more comedy and just... More, really! So please stay with me for that. I really appreciate the support you guys have been giving - you are the reason that I write.**

_**For Jodie ;3**_

* * *

Alfred swung his bag over his shoulder, wincing slightly as the football boots in it gave him a swift kick to the abdominal muscles. Every day he did that, and he never learnt his lesson. He glanced at his watch face and saw the figures 5:49.

"Hola amigo, have you finished with your work for today?"

He turned around to see the familiar smiling face of his friend Toni, leaning lazily on the handle of a broom, in his habitually worn janitor's overalls. His dark brown hair flopped over his face as he straightened up, approaching him idly.

"Yeah, best part of being a PE teacher dude - aside from after school clubs, there's no paperwork or whatever!"

Toni laughed, slapping him on the back heartily. "Hey, you want a lift back to your place? Because I was gonna clock out in a minute."

"Won't Roderich get mad at you again?"

Toni shrugged, uncaring and Alfred sighed, knowing how little this prospect would matter to him. At Fleetwood Secondary School, the janitorial staff were pretty relaxed to say the least. In fact, Alfred thought it was a bit of a stretch to call them staff.

As a fairly large establishment, Alfred thought it made sense to have at least three members of maintenance staff, and they had four, which seemed about right to him upon joining. He soon discovered that with those men doing the work, you'd need at least twenty. Antonio Fernandez Carriedo, or simply Toni as he preferred to be called, was a happy-go-lucky sort, but didn't seem like given the choice, he would work. When Alfred first met him five years ago, he wore multiple gold chains around his neck under the same baggy set of overalls - that he couldn't wait to get out of at any opportunity. Most of the time Alfred saw him, he was asleep somewhere on the grounds, and Alfred had already been warned in advance, by multiple sources, that if he made out that he could only speak Spanish when requested to do something, he was faking, and was actually perfectly capable of understanding the order. Toni could be frequently found with two other members of the team - a Francis Bonnefoy and Gilbert Bielschmidt. Francis took a lot of pride in his appearance, but no so much that of the school. He had long blonde hair that seemed to fall immaculately to his shoulders, even when he had literally surface from a bush. He often pulled it back into a lose ponytail, tied with a crimson ribbon that seemed a little fancy to Alfred, at least for the job that he was doing - though truthfully, he also wasn't doing his job. Unless it involved the cleaning of empty student changing rooms, which he seemed to be able to spend hours in, though Alfred wasn't entirely sure what he was doing in there. He also remembered watching the other two men constantly pulling Francis away from the older students, especially the girls with short skirts or the boys with tight shirts. Gilbert was perhaps the hardest worker of the trio, in that he did try and work sometimes, he just wasn't very good at it. He was the sort of man who would spend a long time painting a wall only to lean against it afterward, or kick the paint can all over the floor. Despite the unusual surname, it took Alfred a while to connect with the idea that Gilbert could be at all related to his colleague. There just was no conceivable similarities between the two, at least that he could see. He later found out that the only real thing the brothers had in common was an extremely high alcohol tolerance, which made for some very interesting end-of-term staff parties, that Arthur became very reluctant to attend with him.

And then there was Roderich, who Alfred could only really describe as terrifying. He was not of a large or strong build or anything like that; in fact, he was rather slender and lean like Arthur, though slightly more effeminate, with well-defined cheekbones and a pointed jaw, and what he was fairly certain were girls' glasses resting on the bridge of his nose. No, it was not that he was strong, but rather that, again like Arthur, he was one of those people that could give you a disappointed or angry look that would make you sick to your stomach, and quiver with guilt. While he wasn't senior to the others in any respect, he seemed to see himself as more of a coordinator than a janitor, sending the others off to do things, and very rarely accompanying them except to provide a lecture. When the group disbanded on breaks or just to do separate chores, Roderich could often be found scolding Gilbert or laughing cynically at whatever problem the poor guy had caused that time. He made it clear that he was not a janitor, refusing on principle to don the grey boiler suit outfits, and instead showing up in a tailored shirt and trousers, with an apron tied around his body at his waist and neck in a flashy bow. He would not be happy with Toni's plans to clock out early again, and would probably force the other two to work overtime to combat the work that Toni wouldn't have done anyway, even if he had been there.

Clearly this didn't matter to Toni however, as he continued walking with Alfred, even as they approached the foyer that the principle was so proud of. Toni ducked into the maintenance office that led off to the side, and then out into the ground. The room was fairly small and cramped, but it didn't really did to be very big for all it contained. There was a desk for Roderich to sit at as he pretended to be doing something productive but was actually finding sheet music online; a mini fridge containing some questionable foods, the men's lunches, and some beer which mysteriously disappeared when the principle gained a tip off; and a couch where one or more of the group could be found utterly unable to wake up to the point where most teachers would just sort whatever the problem was out themselves. He emerged a few moments later without the broom, and left in a white t-shirt and jeans, clutching a pink slip of paper in his left fist. He slid it into a mounted pouch on the wall. Alfred looked closer at the writing on it: 'Antonio Carriedo has clocked out without permission - again.' and wondered what the others' cards said with a smile.

"So, where we going?" Antonio asked.

Alfred swiped his teaching pass across the barrier and walked through into the lobby area, with its slowly dying potting plants and fraying seats. "Actually, I was thinkin' about going to pick up Arthur - if you don't mind, of course."

"It's no problem." he replied, "But I hope you're not still feeling guilty about that kid…?"

Alfred sighed. "I know he's not really a fan of kids in general." He seemed to retract his thoughts and proceeded with, "Well, it's not that even. It's just that he doesn't seem to like having them as patients or whatever. I don't know. He finds them difficult to work with… I don't know."

Toni shook his head, "You know, you probably should be more vocal with each other."

"Hey, we're very vocal…!" He thought a little about how wrong that sounded at about the same time that Antonio did and they burst out laughing simultaneously. "Look, I don't feel guilty or whatever, I just… I want to support him, you know? I got him into this."

"You are a good man, Alfred." Toni told him, "So is Arthur for that matter. You're going to really make a difference in this kid's life. There are a very few things better that you can do than help someone out of their misery."

"You know for someone who plays an idiot so well, you're actually pretty smart." Alfred said mockingly.

Antonio laughed, "Oh, you are one to talk!"

They came to the slightly beat up blue Ford Mondeo, parked just that little bit over the curb so that the gravel was terribly upset and spilling onto the car space. Parking was not Antonio's strong point. Alfred swung open the door on the passenger side and climbed in, depositing a Nike duffle bag in the footwell in front of him, buckling the seatbelt on the right side of his body. All these years in the UK, only returning home for weeks at a time, and it still felt entirely backwards to do it this way. Toni got in beside him, starting up the ignition and pulling out, both men ignoring the slight jolt as the front wheels landed back on the tarmac.

"To Arthur!" Alfred beamed.

"And hopefully that pizza place below his office," Antonio added, "I'm starving."

"Didn't you eat today?"

"No, Roderich had me fixing this broken printer on the top floor."

Alfred recalled the damage on the machine and spoke up, "Dude, that job takes like five minutes!"

"No the way I was doing it…" And he said nothing more, pulling out of the school gates and heading down the road.

Roderich strode up to the plastic wallet tacked at chest height on the wall, and sighed exasperatedly seeing that one compartment was already filled. "Antonio Carriedo has clocked out without permission - again." he read aloud, specifically emphasising the last word. He looked over his shoulder at the corner of the atrium where his other two co-workers were mopping the floor diligently. Or as diligently as could be asked of those two.

"Gilbert!" he called angrily. "You and I will be working overtime tonight." which earned a wolf whistle from Francis, causing Gilbert to crack up and Roderich to turn bright red. "Idiots!" he huffed, walking into the office and slamming the door.

* * *

**So there you go! A new chapter, and once again I'm building the tension for when you'll actually get to see Peter's first therapy session! I hope I'm not driving you guys crazy... *I so hope that I am* XP I've been writing a lot of Arthur's very sad and beautiful backstory at the moment, so you have that to look forward to as well! Until next time, I hope you are all doing well! Please read and review if you have the time! **

**Charli xxx**


	7. Chapter 6 - I'm Ready

**Hey guys! ^^ I'm back with another chapter update for you! Somehow Peter's therapy session has been pushed further away... Next chapter, I promise... Maybe. Definitely either the next one or the one after that...! ^^" I hope you're enjoying it all the same though guys, and I am so grateful to you all for reading!**

**Following a friend's advice, I created a Tumblr for this story at the following address ( and - then - came - peter . tumblr . com) and I really recommend that you guys check it out - not just to help me! XP In all seriousness, I might update here on the days that I can't get to , and I'll answer any questions you guys have about the story, any bits that aren't clear or whatever, and explain some of the things I chose to include that might not seem to mean anything, as well as share pictures of what some of the locations in Peter actually look like - a lot of the stuff about the school and area are based on my own. ^^ So if you have the time, I'd appreciate it!**

**I hope you are all doing well, and as always, please read and review if you have the time! **

**Charli xxx**

* * *

"Right here." Alfred guided Toni to a parking spot in front of Arthur's office. It was something he habitually did - the other had driven him to the place countless times, often going in himself for one reason or another, and also simply driving past on his way to and from places, so it wasn't as if he didn't know where it was. But Alfred said it anyway, as he did every time, and Toni nodded blankly, as he did every time. Theirs was a relationship based on 'mutual idiocy' Arthur always said, but he said it affectionately, so Alfred was sure it wasn't hurtful. Besides, Arthur liked Toni for the most part. He often said that he wished he wouldn't always bring them gifts of tomatoes but he still invited him around for dinner all the same, and they did find a use for them. Even if it meant that they probably consumed more pasta than was healthy.

Alfred breathed out worriedly, then shook his head. It wasn't like this would be the first time that Arthur had a kid as a patient. He had another boy close to Peter's age, Alfred remembered. He'd met him once before coming to pick up Arthur and had got sent out because his personality and volume apparently "triggered Raivis' severe anxiety, you idiot!", which was followed by a long lecture about knocking and personal awareness. Which he had proceeded to take no notice of.

Still, Raivis didn't seem to cause Arthur any trouble, and Peter was the complete opposite. In fact, he was probably more like Alfred himself. He wondered whether this would mean Arthur would completely hate the boy… But just maybe, he'd like him. He smiled to himself. "I need to stop stressing." He realised then that he'd said that out loud, and gave Toni an awkward grin, to which his companion just laughed in response.

The car jolted up onto the pavement, and narrowly missed hitting the parking meter to which both let out a sigh of relief. "Woah, that was a close one, huh?" Alfred chuckled.

"I know…!" Antonio didn't even attempt to hide his exhilaration at the ordeal, beaming widely and practically leaping out of the vehicle. Alfred rolled his eyes and tossed his bag into the back seat before getting out himself.

"I'm going to go up and see Arthur, 'kay?"

"Sí." Toni waved him off from where he stood leaning against his car, fumbling in the pocket of his jeans for coins for the meter.

"Don't get into any trouble!" Alfred joked, flinging open the door to Arthur's business and granting a small 'Hey' to Kiku, who sat at the front desk, looking exhausted and sipping tea from a mug with a chip in it. It seemed to have been a long day.

The teacher ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time like an excitable child. He burst into Arthur's therapy room, one hand remaining on the door just in case he had to make a hasty exit again, in the event of a patient. Instead he found Arthur sitting alone at his desk, two fingers of either hand pressed to his temples. He looked just as stressed as Kiku downstairs and Alfred felt the guilt rise in his stomach - Arthur hadn't even looked up as he came in. He crossed to the desk, sitting atop it and looking down at his partner concerned.

"Uh, hey babe… Y-You okay?"

"Mm." Arthur acknowledged the statement with a non-committal syllable.

Alfred knocked his foot lightly against the spokes of the man's chair. "How'd it go?" he asked, dreading the answer.

There was a brief pause before Arthur answered him, "It went fine Alfred." It wasn't a long silence, in fact by many it would go unnoticed, but Alfred was not many, and if there was anything in life he knew, it was Arthur.

"You don't sound too sure."

"It was fine." he snapped, too quick to answer this time. "… How much longer will I have to do this?"

"I can cancel them like this if you need me to." Alfred snapped his fingers as a gesture of just how little effort the action would take. He wasn't sure what had upset the other so much but he just wanted to make it right somehow.

Green eyes met his as Arthur finally looked up at him. "Alfred, it's fine." Overuse of the word fine - another of Arthur's idiosyncrasies when he was upset. "I just want to know how much longer I'll be expected to do this, love."

He knew better than to withhold the truth. "I don't know. Are you sure you don't want me to cancel them?"

"Of course not. I don't know why you think I would." He got up and tucked the chair into the desk, facing away from Alfred and looking out of the small window in front of him, using a fist to clear a small hole in the frosted glass.

Alfred stood up and came to stand beside him, taking up the hand that wasn't resting on the window. "Was it really that bad?" he asked. He made no eye contact, looking down at the slightly wet ground and the clumps of silver that clung to the blades of grass in the flowerbeds. People hurried off to wherever it was they were going, noticing neither one another nor the people staring down at them from the window of a therapist's office above a low-budget take-out. Even if you don't move with it, the world keeps turning.

"No." Arthur replied, "No, it wasn't that bad."

"Then what is it?"

What was it? Why couldn't he come to terms with it? Arthur let out a breath he didn't realise he'd been holding. He knew what it was. "He's like you, you know."

"That's a bad thing?" Alfred smirked.

"No. It-It's good really, I suppose."

"I'm getting mixed messages from you here."

Arthur chuckled humourlessly. "So am I."

"What does he do that makes you all… Sad?"

"He makes me… Think."

Alfred laughed then. "Arthur, you think all the time! About all kinds of stuff!"

"Not this kind of 'stuff'. I prefer to forget this kind of 'stuff'."

It was clear that his husband was not understanding, and Arthur wondered if he had any memory of what had happened fifteen years ago at all.

He looked up at the ceiling despairingly. Alfred would never understand. To him, memories were just that - memories. To Arthur, they were spectres of the past, and the ones that he wanted to forget were more often the ones that he found himself remembering. They shadowed him, dragging their lengthy chains along the ground, daring him to turn around and face them.

He lowered his gaze and met Alfred's sincere blue eyes and genuine smile and allowed the corners of his own mouth to turn up slightly to match.

"Anyway, you have nothing to worry about." He thought back to his notes from the session, "While he shows signs of both Attention Deficit Hyper-Active Disorder and Obsessive Compulsive, it's clear that he doesn't have either of them. His real problem is that he's lonely."

Alfred smiled sadly; he'd known someone else like that once upon a time.

"He needs someone to confide in more than anything. That's the point of these sessions, I guess."

"Yeah." Alfred brought Arthur's hand up to his lips and planted a light kiss on his knuckles. "Thanks for doing this."

"That's quite alright. I'm sure he's a good kid. But he owes Kiku a new mug…" He looked up at Alfred's blank expression, "Oh, I'll explain later." he sniggered. "I'll say this for him - he has a _lot_ of energy…"

"That's good!" He wore that familiar grin that told Arthur that he really meant it. Alfred really cared about Peter, that much was clear, and while he didn't know him well yet, and was certain that he was among the most annoying children he'd ever met, that meant he cared about him too. And that meant that he was going to carry on giving away the free therapy sessions to him for as long as he needed and even longer.

"Okay, do you have your bus pass?" he asked, slipping his hand out of Alfred's to search for his own.

"Oh, we don't need them - Toni's offered to give us a lift back.

"Oh great." he said, and meant it. Normality was good after the day that he'd had.

"Actually that reminds me, he's downstairs in the pizza place, probably causing some kind of damage. You know, he nearly hit the meter again?" He held the door open for him, guiding him through with a gentle hand in the small of his back.

"Again?!" Arthur questioned disbelievingly. "I swear, I don't care if the government won't take action, I will. That man should not be allowed to drive. Or he should at least have to pass the parking tests once more…"

"Right?"

They walked down the stairs and Arthur forgot a little more of the day's events, waving to Kiku as the young man buttoned his jacket shut and left the office with a respectful bow of the head in his direction. He flicked off the light switch and they left through the old doorway, locking the door securely behind them.

Alfred ducked into the door next to Arthur's, that belonging to 'Tony's' to retrieve their Toni. Arthur stood next to the car peacefully, looking out at the darkening streets of London. It was a far cry from how it used to be. It was almost nice now.

He watched Alfred emerge, Toni in tow, the pair deep in a conversation about something or other, laughing and slapping one another on the back. And he knew everything was going to be okay. Because it wasn't fifteen years ago, it was now, and Peter didn't know what he was doing any more so than Arthur knew how he was doing it. It wasn't fifteen years ago, it was now, and he had Alfred.

"Hola Arthur!"

"You ready, babe?"

He smiled. "Yes. I'm ready."


	8. Chapter 7 - Romance And Hunger

**Hey everybody! This update took a lot longer because of severe writer's block about the events at this point - I know where I'm headed but not how to get there! I keep rebelling against my own rules too, and writing chapters that aren't for ages in advance! ^^" I'm sorry. Anyway, from last week's chapter I had planned two more chapters that built anticipation for Peter's session until all was revealed in that second one, but I know you guys don't all like my tendency to drag everything out! So I was trying to change it... But there's no way around it! So here's part one of my exciting/annoying installment! I hope you enjoy it all the same and I hope everyone is doing well! Please read and review if you have the time! **

**Charli xxx**

* * *

On the whole, it had been a good day, Antonio thought - mostly because he'd done very little. That morning he'd had churros, which had been a pleasantly unexpected surprise. He had turned up early to get in a quick nap before the official start to his working day, and Gilbert informed him that "one of the lunch ladies must be sweet on you, because they made some of your weird Spanish pastry things, want one?" It was delicious and so he made a mental note to tell them so later. After sleeping well into the beginning of his shift, he woke up to find Roderich tapping his foot irritably against the ground, clearly unimpressed at finding him face down in the papers on his desk. He'd seen that Francis was also in a state of unconsciousness opposite him on the couch and cracked a weak smile that promptly got him thrown out. He came out and saw Gilbert working hard, scratching blu-tack off of the walls and balling it up in his free hand diligently. Apparently Francis had an hour left, having worked for an hour already, hence why all of "Roddy's" anger had been directed at him. Then together they picked blu-tack off of the walls, laughed and joked around for a few hours. After that there was very little to do, which annoyed Roderich no end. It meant that Francis kept sleeping, taking breaks only to irritate the pretty librarian or a French teacher he'd had his lecherous eye on, Gilbert perched on the edge of his desk and reached out repeatedly to twist some of his hair around his fingers or play with his glasses, and Antonio made himself scarce, spread out on a wall in the gardens asleep, soaking up as much sun as the English weather would allow him to. It had been a great day for him, and for the other two he supposed, but it seemed that whenever it was a good day for them, it was among the worst in Roderich's lifetime.

Antonio half-walked half-stumbled through the heavy glass door to 'Tony's Pizza Parlour' and breathed a sigh of relief at their invitingly large menu that hung on the wall. It spanned three boards, and he was impressed that such a little take-out place had far more options than the chain restaurants. It was mostly pizzas as their name suggested, but there was a whole sidebar dedicated to pasta dishes, and its boxes also boasted of various desserts and sides like garlic bread and chicken wings. He found himself licking his lips at just the printed words, not to mention the smells that slowly wafted his way.

A head of dark brown hair surfaced above the counter, and a pair of hazel eyes met his own in an angry glare. One strand of hair separated from the rest and flicked up from the centre into a large spiral. He straightened up fully and leant against the top of the unit. His sleeves were rolled up to the elbow and he wore a bright yellow apron emblazoned with the logo of his place of work. But even with his brows knitted so tightly together and his mouth screwed into a scowl, he was still among the most beautiful people Antonio had ever seen.

"… Hola." he breathed, preparing himself for the first words this vision would speak to him.

"That's Spanish, you idiot. This is an Italian place." he huffed angrily.

Okay, so maybe this wasn't the man for him.

And older man came shuffling forward through a door that he supposed led to a kitchen. Another boy followed him, similar looking to the one at the counter but perhaps younger, with a smile on his face and more auburn to his hair but with the same untamed curl, carting several pizza boxes that he placed on the opposite counter and began to pack into a bag. "Lovino! Don't talk to customers like that!" the old man scolded, "Sorry, what can I get you, sir?"

"Lovino…" he found himself saying.

"What?!" Lovino snapped, clearly believing that he had been requested, and objecting harshly to it.

"Oh, excuse me, I just meant… It's a nice name." he recovered, flashing what he thought was his most charming smile. If that wouldn't win his angry Italian over, nothing would.

"Well thank you, I chose it myself!" the man answered, adjusting his apron proudly. He wore the same as Lovino but it curved a little over his more filled-out chest and stomach. "These boys here are my lovely grandsons!"

"Oh?" Antonio replied, "Pardon me, but you don't look old enough to be a grandfather, señor!"

A wide smile crossed the man's face. "Ohh, I like you already!"

Lovino heaved a sigh that was simply loud, but interestingly did not appear over-dramatised; it really was as though he had that much anger already. "Look, are you going to order something or what, bastard?"

"Lovi!" his grandfather exclaimed, raking a hand through his own dark brown curls, "Sorry sir, he isn't quite as tame as my Feliciano there!"

Antonio laughed politely, "That's alright, I kinda like them that way."

"Ugh."

This time Lovino came face to face with a death glare and crossed his arms, turning away and talking to his brother.

"Can I get you something?"

"Yes please, but I don't have much time, so is there anything quick, and easy for you to make of course, that you've got?"

The younger happier Lovino, Feliciano he believed was his name, smiled brightly at him. "I was just cooking some fried chicken for a delivery and there's a lot left - it only just finished cooking so it's really warm too! I know it's kind of like leftovers but it's really good, I promise!"

He took a good look at the younger brother and returned his grin as he bustled through to fetch the chicken. He was attractive, sure, very cute. But he wasn't his brother. He tried to banish the thoughts from his head. The more he mulled things over, it seemed that he was getting back to his usual self. He was allowing thoughts of somebody to fill his head, and whenever that happened, he returned to the pastime that he tried so hard to ignore… Romance. And Lovino had quickly become his target.

The door swung open and the tiny bells that hung from its frame chimed again as Alfred stepped through. "Toni? You ready? We gotta split."

"Sí, uno momento - I ordered chicken."

Alfred groaned hungrily, "Oh man, now I'm hungry. This place smells good."

Feliciano returned through the swing door behind the booth, carrying a cardboard box of chicken. "We had some extra so I thought I'd just give it to you as well as the regular portion, is that okay?"

"Of course, thank you." he answered, "I'll just give you a little more money, sound good?"

"Nonsense!" stated the pair's grandfather, coming out from behind the counter and marching over to Antonio and Alfred with their food. "You'll take it for the normal price, no more! Besides, you could use the extra for your hungry friend here, ha!" He slapped the American on the back and took the coins from Antonio's outstretched palm, marching behind the counter, still laughing.

"Thank you very much, sir, it's been a pleasure enjoying your conversation, and of course your food!" he said, lifting the box and walking towards the door with Alfred. "I hope we can see each other again soon. Adios, Lovi…" And that spirit was back he knew as he inadvertently flashed a wink at the man in question, who'd been doing his best to ignore him, and grinned to himself as his cheeks got a little pinker.

The pair pushed through the big glass door again and made towards the car. "Dude!" Alfred addressed him, "Lovino Vargas, really?!"

"Why not?" he asked.

"Well for starters, he's way out of your league…" Alfred joked.

"Oh haha, like somebody like you would be able to score Arthur had it not been for your little heroism fifteen years ago!" he laughed back.

Alfred punched him lightly on the arm in jest. "Harsh! But seriously, he's totally grouchy… And you're annoying, remember? You haven't got a chance in hell!"

"Just give me time, amigo, just give me time…"

Alfred raised an arm, waving at Arthur, who was leaning up against the car.

"Hola Arthur!"

"You ready, babe?"

"Yes. I'm ready."

Within the restaurant, Lovino Vargas clenched a broom in his hands and had begun pretending to sweep while really staring out of the window at their last customers.

His grandfather was watching them too, though he made no effort to disguise his actions. "Hmm. I like that boy." he remarked.

"Well that makes one of us."


	9. Chapter 8 - Notes

**Hi again! I'm almost ashamed to be talking to you guys so casually... I'm so sorry for the hugely long wait for this chapter! *cries* I really am sorry, and I have my regular excuses - my writer's block was terrible, my procrastination was at its best... But all the same, I should not have left it so long. I just want chapters to be the best thing possible for you guys! I'm still not even sure about this but.. Meh! I was meant to upload on my birthday, as promised in another fic, but I didn't get around to it... Hey, eight days late isn't too bad! ^^" **

**Anyway, enough rambling! I hope you enjoy this chapter, and that you're all well! Please read and review if you have the time. **

**Charli xxx**

* * *

The drive home was an entertaining one. It had started with a simple question from Alfred: "Dude. Lovino Vargas, really?"

And a simple answer from Toni: "What can I say? I like them feisty." Which of course generated the ear-splittingly loud laughter that Arthur had come to know from his husband. The conversation following this was fairly regular, aside from the frequent interjections of "He could be the one!" and "You said that about…!" and then another of Toni's old flames.

In all credit to him, Toni had, in Arthur's opinion, a very good taste in men. They were always very kind, considerate and polite. However, they were often pushovers, or overly accommodating, or just young enough to convince themselves it was something they'd done when he broke up with them simply because 'the thrill' was gone.

Before he really noticed, they had arrived outside their building, and Toni was aggressively steering the vehicle flush to the curb. Arthur clambered out quickly, bringing with him everything he'd gotten in with - for pure fear that he'd be forced back into the vehicle to retrieve anything forgotten. He'd never understand how easily Alfred and Antonio could laugh it off.

"Goodnight, Antonio. Thank you for picking me up, it's greatly appreciated." he repeated the same dialogue he always did. "Actually, I don't know why Alfred and I have never gotten a car of our own, to be honest…!"

"We don't have the need to, babe. We both work just a bus ride away from where we work." He scratched the back of his neck, remembering that the other reason was a sensitive topic, "Besides, I gave away our space in the car lot to that old lady in 8B when she got sick, so that her kids could visit her easier."

"Oh yes, I remember." he frowned. "I do wish you'd consult me sometimes." He dropped the subject.

Alfred relaxed visibly, the feeling of dodging a bullet sweeping over him. "Anyway, thanks for the ride Toni, see you tomorrow, man."

"Adios, amigos." He pulled away from the curb, and the Kirkland-Joneses winced a little as the Mondeo got a little too close to the car in front of it.

"It's a wonder that he hasn't had his licence revoked." Arthur commented, walking through the glass front doors of their building.

"Hey, that smell's back…"

"Oh, great." the Brit sighed sarcastically. Honestly, that smell had plagued them all last month and it had only just disappeared. It had become every tenant's least favourite part of the day, walking into the foyer.

They rode the lift in nearly complete silence, and entered their flat in much the same way. There was a tenseness that Arthur couldn't quite pinpoint the reason for - it wasn't like Alfred to hold back on anything he wanted to say. But aside from the silence, he was acting in much the same way as he normally would. As they walked into the hall, he took Arthur's coat off for him, and he dropped his own duffle bag lazily onto the carpet. He even did his usual swing into the living room, clinging onto the wall partition and half-jumping around. But instead of firmly rooting himself onto the sofa as he normally would, he leaned on the fake marble island in the kitchen. He breathed out deeply, "So…"

Arthur raised an eyebrow, entering the open plan kitchen and placing his briefcase on the counter. "So…?"

"So?" He had stopped slumping.

Arthur caught on. "Oh… You want to know what happened?"

"Well of course!" Alfred said exasperatedly. "It looked like it bothered you when we were at the office."

Arthur looked a little surprised at that. "Oh. I thought you'd moved past that." He opened the case, and pulled out a file and a ballpoint pen, taking the lid off with his teeth.

"Of course not! I may have the world's worst attention span, but I do care about you." He pressed their bodies together, kissing Arthur's forehead.

The psychiatrist made a non-committal noise, writing something on the open page. He turned to look at Alfred. "Honestly, I'm fine. I was over-thinking again."

"Even so."

"Oh, do shut up, Alfred!" he was laughing now, and Alfred knew he was telling the truth.

He put down his pen, clicking the cap on. "Do you want to see my notes?"

Alfred nodded eagerly, like some sort of puppy. Arthur's notes were legendary within their friendship group. It was the place he could freely vent every sarcastic or dry comment that popped into his brain. He didn't have to restrain himself, and the outcome was the sassiest flavour of chaos. But they got just the right balance of honesty and compassion as well, so that they weren't mean, just funny.

Of course, he also wrote up an official and scientific set of notes, but those weren't nearly as amusing.

Arthur passed them back to him, with a strict warning to be careful, and went to put the kettle on.

Alfred cleared his throat. "_Wednesday 28__th__ December 2012_, do ya always write the full date?"

"Yes."

"I never knew that. Anyway: _Alfred, having once again abused the terms of marriage, _(Thanks for that), _has had me meet with a student of his today. Peter Smith is… Unusual, let's say, but on the plus side, not a total headcase. In fact, mentally there's nothing wrong with him at all. He's more lonely than anything else. I can relate._" he smiled sadly. "_Peter is loud and… Very loud. He rushed in today, a little late, I might add, and over-estimated the amount of hallway space we had. I'll put it this way - he may want to either rethink the length of the strap on his bag and/or whether he must throw it in front of his path. He also owes Kiku a new 'employee of the month' mug. And I may owe the poor man a raise. I have honestly never seen anyone look so terrified. I'll admit, I regretted coming down the stairs to see what all the noise was…_" Alfred stopped reading, a slight chuckle to his voice, "God, what the hell did he do?!"

Arthur pushed a cup of coffee towards him, clutching in his own hands a mug of hot tea. "I gather that he burst through the front door rather unexpectedly, pushing the door all the way back I suppose, so that he tripped on the rug and his own bag. The only thing he had to grab was Kiku and his desk. The mug smashed, the files fell… Utter chaos. And he got up completely unscathed!"

"Maybe he is like me!"

"Well, you are probably the only other person in this world that could cause that much of a problem…!" Arthur teased.

"Oh, haha." Alfred grinned.

"Do I detect sarcasm?"

"From me? Surely not. Not the guy who," He flicked over the page, _'couldn't even use his brain for a second to determine that I might not want a child client'_ …Wow, you really didn't want to take on Peter, huh?"

Arthur felt guilty then, especially when that look crossed Alfred's face. He moved his hand to turn the page, guiding him to a specific line. "Read the next part." he pleaded, before turning his back to him, and taking a sip from a teacup bashfully.

He heard a low laugh coming from the man behind him and was suddenly ambushed by a pair of strong arms, wrapping around his middle. He felt the breath on his ear, and a whispered "Thank you."

* * *

_Al probably doesn't know how much I think about it. It's in my head every day. Everything that happened all that time ago. All the heartache. And then the good times. That feeling of being loved and wanted all of a sudden where previously there was nothing. That feeling of suddenly being important to somebody. Of being free, of being… Saved. Of loving someone after being so alone._

_I hate how much he reminds me of that. I don't know what it is about him. Maybe it's that, as much as I hate to admit it - and I do - Peter and I aren't all that different. He's incredibly loud and annoying, in fact, the most annoying child I've ever met, but… _

_It looks like Peter will be around for a while. _

_- Arthur Kirkland_


	10. Chapter 8:5 - From The Desk Of AKJ

**As mentioned in the previous chapter, Arthur's personal notes often have a lot to say! I had thought of a few when brainstorming so thought I'd share them with you guys! It's not a serious chapter, and doesn't continue the storyline so you don't have to read it! In future, any chapters with .5 at the end will be something like this! There may not be any of course, it all depends on whether you guys like them! ^^**

**Charli xxx**

* * *

_Monday 6__th__ August 2012_

_Client: Karpusi, Heracles_

_Official Diagnosis: Stress-Induced Narcolepsy (Mild)_

_Honestly, he comes into the session saying he thinks he might have a problem with the times at which he goes to sleep, and falls asleep within the first quarter! I'd call that a definite problem, personally! I'm not even entirely sure what prompted it! I think perhaps he started to get drowsy (well more drowsy than he already appeared - which was a pretty tricky feat to accomplish) upon the mention of a Sadik Adnan (guessing the spelling here - I couldn't clarify because, as already stated, the man had fallen asleep on the chaise longue)…? Either way, it's obvious what his affliction is. A more difficult problem will be finding a solution within the few hours he's conscious. _

_- Arthur Kirkland_

* * *

_Friday 14__th__ September 2012_

_Client: Braginsky, Ivan_

_Official Diagnosis: ?!_

_A more terrifying person, I don't think I have ever met! And this man's a teacher?! _

_Well, I think I stood my ground. The strange part was, he doesn't seem to be a particularly violent person, this is just the image he gives off. Perhaps we could teach him to smile in a less homicidal-maniac kind of way?! _

_I'll say one thing - God help his students. _

_- Arthur Kirkland_

* * *

_Wednesday 17__th__ October 2012_

_Client: Beilschmidt, Ludwig_

_Official Diagnosis: Possible OCD, Definite High Stress Levels_

_I suppose it must be true what they say - we're all a little mental. However, Alfred's workplace contains an awful lot of examples of this…_

_The poor man appeared to have been bought a session as a prank by his brother and his friends, or perhaps was attending under some kind of forfeit (?), but I think he might have seen the benefit after all. _

_He's a very highly strung individual… Very particular, and somewhat explosive at times. It may not be the most scientific solution, but I think he needs to go on a date. It's clearly been a while… _

_- Arthur Kirkland_


End file.
